


I Arrived in the City of Lights

by gelbes_gilatier



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Urban Setting, Civil Servants, Co-workers, F/M, Friendship, Gen, Het if you squint, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-09
Updated: 2012-12-09
Packaged: 2017-11-20 18:15:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/588272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gelbes_gilatier/pseuds/gelbes_gilatier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ex-Army Ranger turned cop Ronon Dex is new in the city. He's going to be introduced to its finest today.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Arrived in the City of Lights

**Author's Note:**

> [Holiday Fic Request Meme](http://gelbes-gilatier.livejournal.com/289880.html). For **apinkpanthress** and I wish I could come up with a witty A/N but I'm still pretty out of it (personal reasons, uni sucking out my soul). So let's just say... this was a challenge, and **mackenziesmomma** seriously saved the story. It wouldn't exist without her :) Also, sorry for the het hints, **apinkpanthress** , I just couldn't help myself :S

 

**I Arrived in the City of Lights **

  
_“I arrived in the city of lights_  
 _Enchanted ballrooms where I lost my life_  
 _I've closed my eyes_  
 _On your fairground smile.”_

_Runrig, “City of Lights”_

There’s no sensible reason why anyone should be on their way to a café “somewhere around Pike Place” on a Sunday afternoon in the middle of a Seattle deluge. No. Fucking. Sensible. Reason. At. All. Should have never told that guy from Municipal Courts security – Lorne, that’s his name – over a cup of coffee after a nasty incident with a domestic violence perp that he’s new in town and doesn’t know anyone. Should never have told him that he’s ex-Army Rangers, either.

Because as it turns out the guy managing Court security and Police Department relations used to wear Air Force Blues for a living until three years ago and that he knows an ex-Marine over in the Fire Department and a couple other public administration people and hey, how about he just comes ‘round on Sunday afternoon? How about he just stayed home and stared at the rain? At least that would be drier.

What was that stupid café’s name again? Something fancy trying to sound not fancy… _Tristan & Yvaine_. That’s gotta be it because he remembers that he had no idea what that name was about and yeah, he’s still “somewhere around Pike Place”. Resisting an irritated growl, he opens the door, none to gently and… Jesus, do cafés always _have_ to be so fucking cramped?

Ah, hell, at least it’s easy to survey… there. Just over by the window, in a corner a few feet away there’s a group of ragtag couches and arm chairs and he just spotted Lorne sitting on a couch next to a pretty red-head with a bandaged left hand, apparently talking to a guy slouching in an arm chair kitty corner… Fuck. There’s no escape now that Lorne spotted him still standing by the door.

Resisting rolling his eyes, he walks over, careful not to bump into anyone and automatically checking for escape routes. Six months, he scoured the Hindu Kush on Capture or Kill missions, and he has no intention of ever breaking the habits acquired there.

As it turns out, there are three more people. Two women, one guy. His instincts register no threat but something balks inside of him when he notices the guy eyeballing him. He hates when people do that. Luckily for the guy, Lorne decides to do the honors and introduce him. “So, guys, this Officer Ronon Dex. Met him at the Courthouse a couple days ago and had a feeling he might fit.”

“Oh yeah? Is he one of those ex-military…”

“ _That_ nice gentleman over there is Dr. Rodney McKay, the city’s risk management specialist.” The red-head next to Lorne seems to want to add something and without even looking at her, he waves his index finger in front of her face, prompting her to make a face. Whatever’s going on here, it looks weird.

“He’s an old friend of Dr. Elizabeth Weir, over there,” the distinguished looking woman opposite to the slouch nods at him, obviously assessing him just as he’s assessing her, “who’s in charge of Intergovernmental Relations.” He nods back, following Lorne’s hand over the woman sitting next to Weir. “She works closely with Teyla Emmagan, who’s managing the Sister Cities department.”

So far, he’s not sure what _he_ is supposed to be. So far, he only heard “manages”, “is in charge of”, “is a specialist for”. All of them seem to be above a police officer’s pay grade. “The guy unable to sit up straight,” is hopefully someone in the sewer… “is John Sheppard and responsible for Parks  & Rec, mainly in the Projects section.” Great. Just fucking great.

And _what_ is it that is irritating him so much about him? The slouching? The spiky hair? The… “Also ex-Air Force.” Huh. Now that Red said it… it does figure. Also, Sheppard doesn’t seem to be too happy about her spilling the beans about him. But who’s the ex-Marine…

“And _this_ charming young lady here is Laura Cadman. She commands a fire truck…”

“Why thank you, Mr. Lorne. Such praise is rare from…”

“…at the Fire Department. She also served in the Corps for five years. Where she apparently failed to learn obedience.” There’s a stern look from Lorne thrown back at her and a sunny, slightly scary grin from Cadman. Judging from the various reactions from the rest, something’s going on here.

Well. He… “What’s your excuse to invite _him_ , Lorne? Cadman, I almost get but…”

“Rodney.” That was Weir and the quiet strength in her voice surprises him. She certainly doesn’t look like much in the way of authority but all she needs is another look, saying quite clearly “Save it.” to shut risk management guy up. That’s clearly some awesome shit.

“Please do sit down, Officer.” He regards her with a short look, trying to see behind her almost impassive mask but all he sees is diplomatic friendliness.

Not quite convinced that he can trust her, he grunts, “Ronon,” and sits down in the last vacant chair and immediately regrets it. Too nice, too overstuffed, too fucking _comfortable_.

They still haven’t answered the question. Somehow, suddenly, the answer is really important. Cadman, for some reason, seems to have decided to latch right on to it. “As for why you’re here… Evan here likes to collect stray ex-military types,” cue huffing from Lorne but it seems as if this is a kind of ritual between them, “and then tries to reintegrate them into the civilian world.”

Despite everything, he finds himself grinning at that and saying, “How’s that working so far?”

Apparently, that was exactly the right question since she grins back and regards the other ex-Air Force guy. “I don’t know. John, are you well integrated in the civilian world?” There was a strange, strangled sound that might have been a groan from Lorne. Interesting to see, though that Weir’s façade cracks for a moment to allow a smile, as well as Emmagan’s.

“Actually, Laura, I’m not so sure about it. Elizabeth, how well are Laura and I integrated in the civilian world?” Lorne’s looks have begun to grow considerable darker whereas Cadman’s grew even more cheerful. Even for someone whose mind is still in uniform and halfway around the world half the time, that is damn funny.

“I’d say, John,” amusement evident now in Weir’s voice and yeah, first appearance often _are_ misleading, “that especially _Laura’s_ … civility could still use some work.”

Obviously pleased with himself, Sheppard leans back in his seat while Cadman…

“Oh, for Heaven’s sake, are you done with all that immature _crap_ yet or…”

“Evan, _why_ do we keep _him_ still around?” If good natured bantering is her routine with Lorne, Cadman seems to have some kind of hostile history with Risk Management. Or maybe it’s the other way around.

To Lorne’s credit, he tries to mediate between them, even though _he_ would just have lobbed a grenade in there and waited who makes it out first. His money would have been on Cadman. “Because he’s a friend of…”

“Because all of you want to be in my good graces before the next disaster strikes.” Cadman actually gives Risk Management the finger, but only just barely before Lorne makes a grab for her hand and tries to force it back down which only ends in giggling from her and frustrated huffing from him. Plus various stages of eye rolling from the rest of the population. Why don’t Lorne and Cadman just get a fucking room?

Thank God the whole thing resolved itself the moment someone touched Cadman’s bandaged hand she utters a weird mix between a squeak and a growl while Lorne apologizes with a great deal more than necessary. Sheppard just seems to be laughing off his ass in his head.

The rest… same in varying degrees. It starts to dawn on him that everyone has their job in this group and that it reminds him strangely of his Ranger team and how he misses that. All the group dynamics shit and the banter and the razing… It’s just not the same with the guys in the force and he’s not sure if this group can give him the sense of belonging he’s been craving so damn hard ever since he left the Army, either. It _is_ nice to be expected to say anything when you haven’t.

So he leans back and falls back into the observer roll that was his job in the Army, the one that watched a possible threat to the team, the one that kept an eye on enemy movements, the one that took care that no one in the team would endanger unit cohesion or anyone’s health. He sees a lot. Like Ms. Emmagan is an observer, too, only interjecting something when she has something absolutely necessary to say and Dr. Weir constantly works on keeping the peace. Like Cadman is the group’s joker, the one ready to defy authority at any moment she gets and Lorne might be admonishing her but keeps edging closer. The fact that after about 30 minutes, one of Cadman’s legs is lying on his knee is probably proof that she doesn’t mind the edging.

And Risk Management and Sheppard, who seem to have some weird bromance thing going on while Sheppard just can’t stop staring at Dr. Weir when she isn’t looking… he keeps himself from snorting, barely. Back home, people kept calling him a brooder, and tight-lipped. They never did get that their language just wasn’t his. Too many words, not enough meaning. Those people… at least they seem to be accepting enough – even Risk Management, in his own weird, obnoxious way, he thinks – that at least they leave him alone, as long as he doesn’t have anything to say. It’s… comfortable.

Until suddenly, there’s water tripping down on him from behind him for a moment and he turns around, pissed off at… a young, completely soaked woman with hair of indistinguishable color plastered to her face and the sudden urge to push the strands back ambushes him.

“I’m sorry, there was some emergency at… hey. You’re new, aren’t you?” Huh?

Oh fuck.

She means _him_.  

Thankfully, she doesn’t even give a chance to reply because she cocks her head slightly to the side and says frowning, “I don’t think I’ve seen you around here before…”

“That’s officer Ronon Dex, Jennifer. He’s new in town. Why don’t you take a deep breath, sit down and stop talking about work?” He would have expected this to come from Lorne but it’s Dr. Weir, with an authoritative tone in her voice that makes “Jennifer” roll her eyes and walk away to put her coat away. Damn shame.

He reminds himself not to stare after her but in the end, he did see her coming back. She walks around the coffee table towards the couch – which Cadman seems to find a good excuse to crowd Lorne just a little more – and looks him over. She’s definitely not the worst person to ever have done this.

“Officer, huh? I’m Jennifer Keller, Human Services, Food & Health. Nice to meet you.” As she sticks out her hand and gives him a bright, friendly smile he thinks that maybe, Seattle isn't so bad, after all. There's this group that seems to be alright – mostly, because they don’t force him to take part in a conversation – and they are fairly entertaining and… they have Jennifer Keller of Human Services, Food & Health. He allows himself a faint grin. Things could be a lot worse.

 


End file.
